


it’s not what you lost (it’s what you’ll gain)

by lavi0123



Series: wake that spirit, i wanna hear it [5]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aang (Avatar)-centric, Aang Week 2021, Gen, Prompt 5: Air Temples, also fixes the bs northern air temple (sorta), this is still canon compliant but there's nothing to say aang forgave them fully sooo, what better way to fill the prompt than to write about each one?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29706870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavi0123/pseuds/lavi0123
Summary: The closest thing Aang has to parents growing up are the monks, the closest thing to siblings are the other acolytes.He grows up loved, so very loved, always.Or: Aang's experiences at each of the four Air Temples–once before the war, twice during the war, and once after.
Relationships: Aang & Bumi II, Aang & Gyatso (Avatar), Aang & Teo (Avatar), Aang & Zuko (Avatar), Aang/Katara (Avatar), Bumi II & Katara
Series: wake that spirit, i wanna hear it [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2175876
Comments: 10
Kudos: 41





	it’s not what you lost (it’s what you’ll gain)

**i. south**

The closest thing Aang has to parents growing up are the monks, the closest thing to siblings are the other acolytes.

He grows up laughing and dancing and hugging and loving and _loved_ , so very loved, always.

Though all the monks parent all the acolytes, each acolyte is naturally prompted to gravitate towards one in particular. Aang is two when he chooses Gyatso, the least stern of them all with a twinkle in his eye and an ever-present smile on his lips.

They meditate in the Temple’s courtyard, dappled with sunlight at all hours of the day, on a ledge overlooking the garden. Aang is four when he manages to settle himself enough to sink into a meditative state, and five when he manages to do it himself, without prompting.

Gyatso smiles at him like he’s hung the stars, and Aang does not question why Gyatso loves him so but _how_. How, he wonders, can Gyatso carry so much love in him and not want to burst from it?

He asks Gyatso this, one day, and Gyatso laughs. “I should be asking you that, Aang. You carry love in your heart for everyone you meet.”

This is true. Aang has a hard time meeting _anyone_ and not falling for them in some fashion, his love always free and open for the taking. It’s how he befriended Kuzon, a little better at acting straitlaced than most boys his age, and Bumi, a force of nature who stopped for no one.

“But it’s different,” Aang protests. “You’re an airbending _master_. The other monks...they don’t love _this_ much.”

“Everyone loves differently, Aang. Some prefer to show it through action, protection, or simply words. The best kind of love is always a selfless kind.” Gyatso squeezes his hand. “And remember, that no matter what happens, no matter what you do, I will _always_ love you. And there’s nothing you can do about it,” he adds teasingly, reaching over to tickle Aang’s sides.

Aang laughs, loud and clear, and thinks that if love is truly so wide and varied, he’s glad to grow up in a place teeming with it.

* * *

**ii. north**

“They really are airbenders!”

“No, they’re not.”

“What do you mean? Those guys are flying!”

“Gliding maybe, but not flying. You can tell by the way they move, they're not airbending. Those people have no spirit.”

Those words ring in Aang’s ears as he walks around the Temple. It’s so different from what he remembers. The wall that once housed a great mural of the airbending children is now in ruins, replaced by gleaming, sizzling pipes powering something that Aang doesn’t understand. The courtyard, formerly shining and pristine, is cracked and blown apart, dust littering every surface.

It’s...not home, exactly–his home is half a world away, in the South, one of the first Temples destroyed all those years ago–but it still hurts.

Spirits, it hurts _so much_.

And the worst part is how...nonchalant everyone is about it.

“Aang used to come here a long time ago,” Katara explains softly, as though Aang is a child throwing a fit, not a survivor mourning the destruction of his culture. “I think he's a little shocked it's so...different.”

“So _better_!”

Teo seems regretful, but his father and Sokka connect instantly, gushing about technology and progress and “how can you tell time when the notches all look the same?” “The candle will tell us,” and Aang swallows the urge to tell them to stop, to scream, to cry, _No, leave it alone, it’s already been burned and broken beyond repair, why do you need to make it_ worse _?_

He can almost hear Yangchen crying, if he listens hard enough

“Hey, Aang.” Teo’s voice breaks into his spiral, and he smiles softly, ignoring Aang’s scowl. “I want to show you something.”

Teo shows him and Katara the hermit crab, saying that perhaps it’s a descendant of the crabs that used to live there, that maybe some things aren’t so different.

“You’re right!” Katara agrees brightly, stroking the hermit crab. “They’re kinda like keepers of the Temple’s origins.”

_The temple’s origin keepers were the monks. The acolytes. Not descendants of crabs who already have a hard time fending for themselves._

“Besides,” Teo adds with a grin, “there's one part of the temple that hasn't changed at all.”

And when Aang sees it, sees the sealed door to the room within, accessible only to airbenders, something eases in his heart. _At least there’s one place they couldn’t change. At least one piece of my culture can remain intact._

And then it turns out that Teo’s father is selling weapons to the Fire Nation. The knife of pain in Aang’s stomach twists deeper.

He helps them. Of course he helps them, the destruction of this Temple is at stake, and even if he never lived here, he can feel it calling to him, like an old friend. He’s walked these halls often enough on childhood visits to know every nook and crevice, and even if that’s all been broken and ripped apart for the sake of _progress_ , he won’t let fire scorch these walls.

_Not again._

The words, “I'm really glad you guys all live here now,” feel like knives in his throat, but he can’t live with hatred in his heart. There’s only one person who merits his hatred right now, and if Aang has even a chance of killing him, he’ll need to channel every last bit of hate towards Firelord Ozai. Until he’s defeated...nothing else matters.

_Not even this?_

* * *

**iii. west**

It’s not right.

He was able to push down the urge to scream, rail, and throw a tantrum when they were at the Northern Air Temple (not entirely, but enough, in the end). He was able to look past selling weapons to the arbiter of a genocide, the desecration of something so sacred, the strange new method of flying...if only because the way Teo’s eyes gleamed as he flew was...was all _airbender_ , really. And Aang will never truly forgive any of them, but they were refugees.

They weren’t firebenders.

Logically, he knows this is stupid. He knows that he tried to befriend Zuko multiple times, accepted him as part of their group, accepted him as his firebending teacher, danced with the dragons with him. There’s no reason that training here should be so different.

But it is. Spirits help him...it _is_.

“Kick _higher_ , Aang!”

He strains, kicking upward and blasting a small plume of fire. It sails up then back down and strikes the floor and he winces because _he remembers visiting his friends who lived here and running around in this very courtyard_ –

“ _Aang_!”

“Ah!” He jolts, tripping over himself and falling flat on his face.

The laughs of a (long-dead) acolyte ring in his ears.

Zuko scowls. “What’s going on with you? I know you can firebend better than that!”

“Sorry, Zuko, I just–”

“Come on, up! We don’t have time for this!”

 _Just give me a minute!_ He wants to scream, but he doesn’t have a minute. None of them do.

_“We need you, Aang.”_

He’s the Avatar. His people are long-dead, these Temples long-abandoned. A little fire damage won’t kill them again.

_Or will it?_

He wobbles unsteadily on the ball of his left foot, kicking out without fire, managing to land on his own two feet without falling this time.

“Something’s definitely wrong.” Zuko frowns. “Did you go to sleep early last night?”

“Yes.” _No._ “That’s not it.” _Truth._

“Then what is it?” Zuko presses. “Do you need me to show–?”

“No!” Aang cries. At least when he firebends, he can limit the damage–as much as he trusts Zuko to teach him, he doesn’t trust him to be careful with his fire.

Zuko narrows his eyes. “Tell me what’s wrong, or I’ll tell Katara.”

Aang wants to call his threat empty, but they both know Katara will put aside any hatred for Zuko if it means coaxing Aang out of his funk. And right now, that’s the last thing he wants.

So he sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe I _am_ tired.”

But Zuko’s still looking at him in that way that makes Aang’s skin crawl. _Did the soldiers look at my people that way? Did they look at my people like they were liars, deceivers, violent? Is that all you firebenders know, is hatred and destruction and_ murder _–_

Zuko’s eyes widen, and Aang startles, realizing that he spoke his last sentence aloud. “I...I’m sorry, I didn’t–”

“Is there a better place?”

Aang blinks. “What?”

“To practice,” Zuko replies, his tone softer than usual. “Is there somewhere...where we wouldn’t destroy a lot of…” He waves his hand around, looking awkward.

Part of Aang wants him to stew in that awkward silence. Wants him to find the words and say them, outright. But if he were that kind of person...Zuko likely wouldn’t even be here in the first place. So though he doesn’t smile, Aang nods, and they set off to find a more open space to practice. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

* * *

**iv. east**

“Bumi, get down from there!”

But little Bumi, five years old and already rambunctious, giggles as he swings himself higher.

“Bumi!” Katara tries again.

Aang chuckles, amused at his son’s antics. “Oh, leave him be, Katara. He’s just adventurous.”

“Adventurous or _reckless_?” She shoots back, then sighs, patting her stomach with a fond, “If your brother’s like this, what on Earth am I gonna do with _you_ , little one?”

Aang laughs. “If little Aang Jr is anything like his siblings, we’re definitely gonna have our hands full.”

Katara huffs. “I knew telling you the gender was a mistake. We’re not naming him _Aang Jr_.”

“Carries on the tradition of legacy names, doesn’t it?” Aang counters with a grin.

“I don’t know.” Katara sighs. “I’m a bit tired of legacy names.”

Silence falls between them, and Aang almost reaches out to comfort her, until she breaks it again.

“I worry about him,” Katara murmurs, nodding up to Bumi. “What if he falls?”

“That’s why I’m here.” Aang smiles, squeezing her hand. “I’m right here, Katara. And remember, Bumi–”

“–is as much Air Nomad as he is Water Tribe, yes, Aang, I _know_.” She smiles wryly.

Aang shoots her a quizzical look, though he can’t disguise his mischievous smile. “I was gonna say _is his mother’s son,_ but–”

“Hey!” Katara protests. “I’m not the one who threw a secret underground dance party for the Fire Nation!”

“Just for the school kids,” Aang reminds her, sobering slightly. “And they needed it, Katara.” _On Ji, Shoji...even Hide. They needed to be_ free _, even for just a moment._

“I know,” she agrees softly. “What you told me about that school...I can’t even imagine.”

“I should be most angry about how they butchered my history,” Aang says softly. “And I was, of course, but...I just wanted to bring life to those kids again. They looked like zombies.” His eyes harden. “No kid should ever look like that.”

He very determinedly does not dwell on the fact that, for a while after the war, he felt like that. Taking someone’s life force really does a number on the taker, it turns out.

“And now, no kid ever has to again.” Katara squeezes his hand firmly. “Because of you.”

“Because of us,” Aang counters, with a smile. “All of us.”

And as they stand there, watching Bumi closely, Kya runs past with a “No fair, I wanted to go first!” and they laugh.

_Maybe it’s not the same as it was then. But your legacy lives on in these kids. In Teo. In Katara, Sokka, Zuko, Toph, Suki. In every bright, smiling face. In every child unburdened by the horrors of war._

_I can’t undo what has been done...but is this enough?_

He thinks he hears the wind assent. And if there’s one thing an airbender knows, it is to always trust the wind.

**Author's Note:**

> So glad that's finally finished XD I wanted to write something about each Air Temple for this one, and hopefully I succeeded!
> 
> Also I know ~technically~ the Guru Pathik stuff happened at the Eastern Air Temple, but...as previously mentioned, I don't like his characterization so we're just gonna ignore that XD a look into the future is more interesting anyway (and mixed Kataang kids!!)
> 
> I'm going to fix the Northern Air Temple stuff more fully in my Bumizumi AU, but I wanted to stick to canon for this one, so I figured Aang could still harbor a little resentment. Since they basically desecrated a sacred place of his people, I figure he's at least owed that much (though Teo is given some grace because he wasn't really part of decision-making on that front)


End file.
